Unexpected
by bunnygirl64
Summary: I have wanted to write about the Doctor and an older, disabled companion for a long time. When I tried to write the character with 11 it didn't work well. But with an older, more sophisticated Doctor I thought I would try again. I am a long time lurker and an infrequent contributor. Reviews are welcome. Slamming is not.
1. Chapter 1

Cheryl hurried along the busy sidewalk away from the post office and toward the warm bus that would take her back to her apartment. She was glad to have her last Christmas errand of mailing goodies off to everyone completed. She was officially done with everything she had to do to be ready for Christmas now. Cheryl wasn't so much in a hurry to get somewhere as she was to get out of the splashes of cold dirty water that sprayed onto her from passing cars. The wheels of her wheelchair splattered her coat arms and she was glad she wore her leather gloves that kept her hands from becoming soaked by the icy rain. Her knuckles were complaining from the cold wetness anyway. But it was Christmas time. Bad weather was to be expected. Cheryl silently hoped for the gray freezing rain to turn to white, fluffy snow. Snow would make her have more of a Christmas spirit. She liked Christmas. But this year the girls wouldn't be coming home. And she planned on the first holiday all by herself since the girls were babies.

Cheryl was brought out of her nostalgic musing when she noticed that there was no cut out in the side walk ahead of her. She sighed and looked around for a driveway, lawn, cut out, or some other way to exit the sidewalk and cross the street without tipping her chair over. She had crashed in her chair a few months ago and the resulting broken finger was still a painful reminder to not try and take her chair "four wheeling" off of curbs. Her practiced eyes caught site of an alley way that looked like it went around the block and would get her to where she needed to go. She gave an extra push to clear her wheels through some extra thick slush and get to where she could successfully cross the street to catch her bus home. From then on she had planned a quiet evening of Christmas movies, hot coco and phone calls to loved ones.

As she maneuvered her way around a row of tired cinder brick buildings Cheryl caught sight of a little boy, no more than five or six years old, up in a tree. He was crying and looked very frightened. Cheryl came to a stop and hollered up to the boy, asking him if he was stuck. The boy nodded miserably and sniffed back tears. "Well, don't worry", Cheryl assured him, "I'll help you down". Her words sounded more confident than she felt. When she was raising her girls, they knew her. They trusted her. And they always figured out ways to get around her inability to climb or walk. This little boy didn't know her. She was either going to have to talk him down or somehow go up after him. She wished she had a cell phone to call someone. But since she didn't, well, here went nothing. "Do you remember how you climbed up there"? Cheryl asked the cold and trembling boy. He looked petrified and shook his head no. Cheryl urged to boy to step down to a branch below him. She saw how he could climb down if he would try. But the boy refused. He closed his eyes and stubbornly clung to the tree trunk. He was too afraid to try. She couldn't blame him. She wasn't big on heights either. People who fall easily usually don't like heights she thought to herself. Never the less, it looked like she was going to have to go up there and help the kid down. "Wait a second", she told the little boy, "I'll come up there and help you down". The little boy didn't look convinced, but said nothing. Cheryl grabbed a branch with both arms and pulled her self up. She had very strong arms. And even though her legs were skinny and stiff, nearly useless from cerebral palsy, her arms could do double duty. In no time she was seven feet off the ground and just below the boy. She asked him to sit down on his branch and reach for her. He did so reluctantly and Cheryl felt him wrap him arms around neck. She carefully climbed down the wet and slippery tree and sat on the soaking, cold ground. The little boy released his strangle hold on her shoulders and mumbled a thank you before starting to run off. "Hey"! Cheryl yelled after the boy. "No more climbing trees you can't get down". The boy stopped and shyly turned around. He looked briefly at the ground before saying, "I was just trying to see the shiny Christmas lights better". Before running off again.

"What Christmas lights? Cheryl thought before looking up at the tree. She sniffed and coughed. She saw nothing but a naked, miserable looking tree that was currently dripping sleet onto her back. Cheryl was cold and shaking. Cold was never good for her muscles. It made them even stiffer and more disagreeable. And her bones in recent years had become living barometers. They ached with every change in the weather. Cold, wet weather was the worst. She needed to get off the ground and home into dry, warm clothes. No more good Samaritan or errands for her today. She sighed and crawled back up to the tree. She would use it to pull herself up and ease herself back into her wheelchair. But when she placed her hand on the trunk of the tree to push herself up, her hand went right through the trunk and disappeared into a blaze of light. She started and pulled her hand back, before tentatively touching the tree again. It was solid to the touch now. She chuckled to herself, well, hallucinations are a new thing. She placed both hands on the trunk and gave a mighty push to lift herself from the ground. But there was nothing there. And she felt herself falling headlong through light and into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Cheryl didn't know where she was or how long she had been there. Time was different wherever she was. It was absent. No, time was completely irrelevant here. There was no light. There was no weather. There was no sensory input of any kind. There was only darkness. The darkness was alive here. It was relentless and endless. Cheryl put her hand right in front of her eyes but she couldn't see anything. She could feel that she was sitting on a firm surface. She could hear odd, distorted noises and voices in the distance. She was not alone here wherever she was. The voices were strange and foreign. They were anything but reassuring. Growls, roars, shrieks and metallic voices she couldn't make out. But she wasn't alone. Wherever she was, she was very much not alone. Should she crawl toward the voices? What if she fell off a cliff?

Cheryl was brave. She was strong. But she did not seek out adventure. She was not anybody's idea of an adrenaline junkie. Life was challenging enough for her. She did not need to seek out problems. She also was not a crier. Cheryl prided herself on that. She was the woman who could be counted upon to stay in control. But suddenly in outer darkness she felt her eyes sting and she swallowed back a shriek that threatened to tear itself from her throat. Her heart pounded against her rib cage and she shook all over. Cheryl wrapped her arms around herself in a hug. She must be calm. She must be rational. This clearly was not really happening. Had she suffered some kind of a mental break? Her mind scattered thinking of the Bible's outer darkness where the wicked are thrown where there was weeping and gnashing of teeth. This felt like that place. Had she died? Was she wicked? She thought of Alice down the rabbit hole and Narnia's world between worlds. She even remembered an old Twighlight Zone episode she had watched with her dad when she was a little girl. Some kid had fallen out of her bed and into another dimension through the wall. Her dad was trying to get her back. Cheryl had mentioned to her father at the time that if she were that kid she would be screaming her head off. Her dad had quipped that if he were that dad he would be screaming his head off too. Screaming and crying aside she felt out of synch in this world. She felt like she could just sit here forever and let life pass her by. Life? Was this still life?

She stayed in a stupor of shock and indecision for quite a while before she noticed that some of the roars were moving closer. This cannot be good, she thought. She didn't know what was roaring, but roaring was something usually associated with things that ate others. it would be very good to keep the roaring thing in the distance. Unless the roaring thing was Aslan. Cheryl giggled at her silliness in spite of herself and crept away from the roaring. She still couldn't see anything but allowed herself to be comforted that she wasn't falling headlong off of something else. She crawled until her knees and legs began to feel very sore. She stopped to catch her breath and wipe away the tears the stubbornly wouldn't quit. She sniffed back her tears and listened intently. In the living darkness where time had stood still it seemed her whole body listened. She roaring was far away again. That was a good thing but her mind wandered into panic inducing territory again and she decided to ignore her painful legs and push on.

She wasn't religious, but in her current state she couldn't help but mumble prayers to anyone what may be listening. And as any mother knows, her thoughts kept going back to her children. Cheryl wondered how she would get back to her daughters and her life. Her daughters were now grown and away at college, but they would never know what happened to her. Her loyal and loving sheltie would be at home forever awaiting her return. And what about all the volunteer work she did and all the people she looked forward to seeing every week? It wasn't an extraordinary life, but it was hers. And she was going to get back to it. Cheryl wasn't sure what had happened, but she convinced herself that she would figure out how to fix it. She was good at lying to herself. And, truth be told, Cheryl had pulled off many amazing save. She could raise two girls by herself. Those girls had defied the odds in her gang filled, drug filled and violence filled neighborhood and were in college. She had raised those girls on disability payments, long giving up hope to receive any help from her father, she managed to make due with very little. She could work wonders with $2.35 and turn that into a meal for three with leftovers for lunch the next day. She could get a six year old to eat broccoli. And she would somehow come out all right now. This had to be. It just had to be. But that was real life. And the situation she was in now seemed pure fantasy.

Eventually Cheryl scrapped her leg up against the rough bark of a tree. Or something that felt life a tree. How could trees grow in the dark? She asked herself. She noticed a spark of light. It was quick, and almost life a pulse of static electricity. But it was unmistakably light contrasted against the relentless darkness. She instinctively reached toward the light and pulled herself up on the tree trunk. Cheryl's shacking legs buckled under her and she shifted all of her weight up against the trunk. Then she felt herself falling through light again. But she didn't stop falling. Cheryl screamed. She hated heights. She hated falling. And she landed with a thud into the hard asphalt. Her knees and hands screamed in protest and she knew she had scraped them upon landing. She heard a horn honk and brakes squeal. Cheryl looked up in horror to see the oncoming grill of a car headed right toward her. "Get out of the street"! Somebody yelled. She crawled out of the street and onto a sidewalk and soon was surrounded by strangers staring at her and demanding that someone call for help.

The sun beat down hot on her torn clothes and sore body. There was no sleet here. The ground was warm and bone dry. Cheryl ran a hand through her damp, messy hair and swallowed back the panic and confusion that was surging throughout her body again. Every one was talking around her and it was too much to take in, but she did recognize that the crowd had British accents. Wherever she was, she still wasn't home. A police officer, in a uniform that looked like none she had ever seen before broke through the crowd. He surveyed her for a moment before asking her if she was okay and requesting her to stand up and come with him. "I can't stand up", Cheryl offered. "Why, are you hurt?" the Officer asked. "No, I have cerebral palsy", Cheryl explained. "I usually use a walker or a wheelchair to get around, but I have been separated from those". The Officer nodded, and took a seat on the sidewalk curb next to Cheryl. He asked her what her name was and where she was from. Cheryl answered, "my name is Cheryl Schneider. I am from Montana in the United States". "What are you doing in London?" The Officer prodded. Cheryl took in a quick breath when she heard where she was. "I don't know". She simply said. "Do you know what today is, Ms. Schneider?" "Sure. It's December 24th, 2022", Cheryl confidently stated. But why was it so summery in London in December? she questioned to herself. She wasn't quite ready to admit what she already knew. It wasn't December wherever she was.

The Officer radioed in for help for Cheryl. He mentioned she needed a medial and mental health evaluation. I have a lady here who probably needs to be sectioned. He quietly said. She's crippled. She doesn't know how she got to London from the United States and she thinks it is 2022. He then went back to comfort Cheryl and tell her help was on the way and that she would be taken care of. Cheryl asked to call her daughters and the Officer told her that someone would help her with all that. Cheryl heard the ambulance approaching and sighed. This strange day was about to get even longer. She allowed herself to be picked up and put onto a stretcher and taken to a London Hospital. 


End file.
